


Enlightenment

by StateOfBazlessness



Series: 'Cause boy, you're perfect (Always worth it) [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bottom Simon Snow, Comeplay, Consensual Kink, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Dominant Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Light BDSM, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Simon Snow, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Praise Kink, Protective Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sexual Roleplay, Simon Snow Loves Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Simon Snow is a cinnamon roll, Smut, Soft Simon Snow, Soft Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Sour Cherry Scones (Simon Snow), Submissive Simon Snow, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, True Love, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Loves Simon Snow, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:35:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29662539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StateOfBazlessness/pseuds/StateOfBazlessness
Summary: "You remember what you promised to me a few days ago, right, Snow?"The sheer dominance in his voice sets a shiver running through my body from head to toe, and there also might be an involuntary whimper, depending on who you ask. How embarrassing.I try to put up a fight just for old times sake. (He can conquer me all he wants afterwards.)"What, Pitch?" I sound breathless. Fuck. I've already lost.I feel him smirk through my skin. He knows it, too."Hmmm. Let's see. If my memory is correct, it concerns that sweet little hole of yours."
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: 'Cause boy, you're perfect (Always worth it) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154942
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	Enlightenment

**Author's Note:**

> It's a coincidence, but happy birthday to Baz!!! ❤

**Simon**

_I dreamt of a starless night sky. Red rubber balls kept falling in endless waves. I was immobilised. I looked down to my feet to check whether I still have them. The ground changed to the face of an 11-year-old me. He opened his mouth to laugh, and I fell straight down. And fell, and fell, and fell…_

"Simon! Simon wake up!"

Baz's husky voice shakes me awake.

Then I realize I'm trembling without him doing it. Both of my cheeks are wet. Was I crying in my sleep?

Baz turns me around and hugs me tight. His lukewarm embrace feels so good right now.

"Simon...Simon, are you all right? I was so worried. You kept thrashing and screaming, and I didn't know what to do."

I shuffle to look him in the eye, and he seems just as terrified as I was. All this worrying because of me. I love him so much.

I open my mouth to reassure him that I'm fine, but my throat feels so _parched_ it's difficult to form words. What comes out is a weak "yeah".

He scrambles off somewhere hastily. Sunlight is streaming in from the windows. It's still a task to keep my eyes focused.

A minute passes, and he strides back with a full glass of water. I chug the whole thing down in a go.

"Thank you." Much better.

"You're welcome. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Just the usual."

I try not to make a big deal out of it, but I know that Baz is unconvinced.

"I'm better. Thanks to you."

I surge forward into the safety of his strong arms. I feel invincible when Baz is holding me snug, like nothing bad can happen.

I nuzzle at his neck, and he squeezes until there is literally no space between us. That's when something hard hits my thigh. The rest of him goes rigid, too.

I pull myself back slightly and balance my weight on my elbows.

"Baz! Are you getting off my misery?" I exclaim with my voice regained. It comes out more high-pitched than I'd have wanted.

His pale face is tinged with a little pink on the cheeks. One of his eyebrows goes up in that signature Baz Pitch way.

"No, Snow. You know, I was having 'another' kind of dream when you went flapping like a headless chicken and wailing like a banshee."

_Oh._

I can feel my face warming up in an instant. Damn this effect he has on me. Anything even a wee bit suggestive and I go beet red.

And the bastard knows this.

Something changes in the air.

There is that familiar hungry glint in his grey eyes, which are not so grey anymore. More like pitch black, like his hair.

He pins me down faster than I could blink, and I'm on my back with my wrists bound high above my head by his left hand. Firmly, but not uncomfortably. How thoughtful of him.

"Baz, what the…" I'm cut off before I could finish that sentence by a predatory kiss on the mouth. His tongue seeks entrance, and I let him in.

I want to surrender.

I do.

He keeps exploring for a few seconds, then leaves my mouth for my neck. Baz is attacking the moles there as if I was a five course meal.

"You remember what you promised to me a few days ago, right, Snow?"

The sheer dominance in his voice sets a shiver running through my body from head to toe, and there also might be an involuntary whimper, depending on who you ask. How embarrassing.

I try to put up a fight just for old times sake. (He can conquer me all he wants afterwards.)

"What, Pitch?" I sound breathless. Fuck. I've already lost.

I feel him smirk through my skin. He knows it, too.

"Hmmm. Let's see. If my memory is correct, it concerns that sweet little hole of yours."

How is everything that he says so damn hot? He doesn't even have to try, effortlessly making my knees go weak.

"D-does it?"

His other hand is in my pants, groping my ass. He drags a single finger by my entrance. I can't help but moan.

The fucker has the audacity to chuckle.

"Yes. _Tonight_."

He tries to sound impassive, but I know how excited he is. How excited I am. (If my tail was present, it would be all over his wrist.) But also a tad bit afraid. Fuck, I'm beyond frightened.

I don't stand a chance against "that". If you had seen Baz's prick, you'd understand what I'm talking about.

Our first time shagging was after coming home from the States a few months ago. All three of us had enough of America at the time.

I told him over the plane ride to Heathrow that I love him. I couldn't keep it to myself any longer.

He said it right back without hesitating. Both of us got emotional.

The heartfelt moment got overpowered by the need to touch the other, however. That is how twelve hours of flying felt like twelve minutes in the end.

 _Time flies_ when you are snogging your ex mortal enemy turned boyfriend after a life-changing journey.

One of the things I learned during our trip to the 'Land of the Free' is that I couldn't _carry on_ without him. I was set free by the revelation, indeed: life without Baz is no life at all.

Not long after being back, we started to become more bold with our touches.

Clothed sex turned to unclothed sex fairly quickly.

Of course I knew that Baz was packing down there. It's inevitable after being roomed together for seven years at Watford, then one more at my shared flat with Penny. Wasn't enough to prepare me for actually seeing _it_ , vividly in action.

At this point, we are only short of _one thing_.

But enough talking about pricks. Let's put them away for later.

I'm so engulfed by my inner musings that I don't notice him waving his hand in front of my face, the one that was pinning me down.

Even if his hand isn't there anymore, I'm still in the exact same position. I don't want to put too much thought into it, but something about it feels… right.

"Ground control to Simon Snow, hello? What's going on in that thick head of yours?

I bounce back into reality. I want to answer honestly, I really do, because I hate to lie, especially to Baz. But I was thinking about his….

"Uh, uh, huh…" I believe that with each 'uh' my face turns a shade darker.

Fortunately, he takes pity on my sorry mug.

He puts his hands to either side of my head, then deposits a soft kiss on my forehead.

"No thoughts. Brain scrambled egg."

A lifeline thrown unknowingly.

"Yes, food! I'm hungry, Baz!" It's half-truth. My stomach still feels uneasy after that unsettling vision.

He sneers, but it's a weak impression of his former scowl. Smiling looks a thousand times better on his handsome face.

"Of course, Snow, you are always thinking about food. Food this, food that. I'm starting to think that you love 'Food' more than me."

I grin, then pull him back down on me, his weight kinda crushing my chest but in a satisfying way.

I nuzzle my nose with his. 

"I love you the most. The sour cherry scones are a close second, but you'll _always_ be in the first place."

He smiles, genuinely, and my heart wants to jump out the window.

It still comes hard to him, I think, but easier with each passing day. Seven years of hating each other won't go away with a snap of a finger, unfortunately.

But he never hated me. He told me so. Just pretended.

"Baz, will you bring me scones from that bakery we stumbled upon last week, three streets from here? They bake the best sour cherry flavoured ones after Cook Pritchard. Please… pretty please…"

I plead with those big eyes I know he can't resist. He always tries but eventually gives in. The fact that I'm the only one who has this power over him makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.

"Fine, Snow."

"Call me Simon."

A mandatory eye roll but success.

"Fine, Simon."

I move off him, I mean I drag myself off him, and there it is. His dick is still solid as a rock in his boxers.

"But first, shower. I have to take care of _something_."

The manner he says 'something' has my own knob twitch.

One more peck on my lips while he is smirking, and then he is on way to the bathroom.

How am I going to survive this day?

**Baz**

I close the bathroom door behind me and sigh.

Simon still has those awful nightmares from time to time. I'd gladly cast a _"Sweet dreams"_ on him each time I feel his breathing rhythm change, and see that specific grimace overtaking his otherwise angelic features.

But he hates when spells are used on him. He didn't explain why, just a few words here and there, but I suspect it has to do with his trauma. Put that plural, traumas.

I'm ashamed to be someone who contributed to his suffering once.

The only incantation cast upon him on a monthly basis is the one which makes his wings and tail disappear.

Bunce and I searched for months to find a solution which didn't include surgery to remove the draconic appendages. The answer to Simon's scaly situation lay in a Middle English spell tome we found in the biggest magical library of London, hidden well among the ancient shelves.

Our sought 14th century book was translated from Latin to English at the time when _George of Lod_ became the patron saint of England. The bloke got rid of a man eating dragon during the Roman Empire's declining period, using these words: _Hic sunt dracones concidunto._ A seafaring proverb slightly altered.

'Here be dragons fallen.'

Guess _who_ else fought multiple of the beasts and ended up as one in the end?

The archaic letters have to be sung under the full moon to take effect, when the magickal energies of our earth are the most potent. (Except for the summer and winter solstices in June and December.) Hecate knows why, it has always been like that.

Simon was giddy with joy when the spell worked, and he ran towards me and Bunce with such force that the three of us fell in a heap of limbs. The wings and the tail didn't turn invisible: they vaporized into the thin air instead. No scars or any sign left that would indicate they were there in the first place.

At first we thought it was over for good.

Wishful thinking.

They just sprouted back roughly a month later, Snow's wings knocking me out the bed with a loud thud. It's a good thing I'm hard to bruise.

The enchantment is to be recast every plenilune, that's true, but still a lot better than the daily concealment spells.

No more droids to be found here, fuck you.

To be honest, I wouldn't mind the parts staying though. I've grown quite fond of them, especially the tail. How it seems to have a mind of its own and curl around my wrist when Snow is excited about something, usually me.

But if it makes Simon feel less like a freak, I'm okay with them gone.

I'm happy when Simon Snow is happy, and I'm willing to do _everything_ to ensure that.

I stare at myself in the mirror.

I got carried away a bit. Happens every time when I begin to think of Snow. Which is constantly. Ergo I'm always thinking of him. Whatever.

I move under the shower head and turn on the water. The hotter the better. I'm in constant need of heat sources whenever Simon is not clinging onto me to provide it.

I bring my hand down to my erection and start stroking my shaft. I use the other to tug at the foreskin.

Not even a minute into wanking, and I'm already thinking of Simon, as always. My number one fantasy.

But he is not just a fantasy anymore.

He is my reality.

I try to imagine how good it will feel once I'm inside him. How blessed I'll be as the only person who's ever got to do this with Simon Snow.

The stretch of his tight hole as it tries to accommodate my huge length. _His mouth-watering, little, pink hole…._

And here come my fangs. Sometimes having thoughts _intense_ enough is able to make them pop.

Will he let me eat him out before I ram my dick inside his bum?

I increase the speed on my stroking. I'm getting close.

Simon lying before me on his knees and elbows, his hole left gaping after being fucked into.

Just a little more….

White liquid pouring out, flowing down his thighs. Cum. My cum. Mine.

_Mine._

I let the pleasure wash through me. I open my mouth and an animalistic grunt comes out. I shoot high up the shower walls.

Oh, how I wish I could have done that inside my boyfriend. Soon enough, though.

I cleanse the surface with the stream of water and let my seed be drained down. What a waste. Is it normal to think of my come in this way or is it another vampire thing?

Sorry, there was no specific sex education for unfortunate souls like me.

I wash myself thoroughly, then my hair as well. I let it hang loose, some of it down my face, just as Simon likes it.

I put on some fresh pants, then trail back to the bedroom.

While I was cleaning myself, Simon dozed off, apparently. He lies in the middle of _our_ bed, clutching a soft pillow between his hands. _My_ pillow. His nose is buried in the plush fabric.

Brilliant waves of morning light illuminate his features, bathing him in pure gold.

I'm completely enamoured with the sight.

I walk to the bed quietly, not to wake him. He didn't sleep well, so it's for the best if he takes a nap. It's Saturday, no obligation to get out of the cozy fort.

I pet his hair softly by his nape, and he nuzzles further into my pillow. He takes a long breath, a sleepy smile on his face and mumbles a "Baz."

There is an urge in me to just drape myself over his form and fall back to slumber, but I promised him those cherry scones.

I reluctantly move away to dress up casually. No need to show off. I have everything I could need asleep on my blankets. _Our_ blankets.

The fact that we are living together full-time now is still hard to comprehend. That I get to share my every morning and every night with Simon within arm's reach.

All thanks to that meddlesome American, Shepard.

Not even a week after we returned home, the bloke showed up in front of Simon's and Bunce's shared flat. How he got the location of the place is a mystery to this day. There is definitely more to him than he lets us know but is otherwise harmless. Probably.

He said that he could learn a lot more about magic and magical creatures in England than in the States with their stupid laws.

The true reason was Penelope Bunce, of course. The two of them grew quite close in peril, even if _Penny_ didn't want to admit it. Shepard not being shooed away is an answer in itself. As the poor chap didn't have any contact or accommodation to stay at, Simon and Bunce let him crash on the couch in their living room.

For a few days at first. Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months.

Simon kept coming over more and more to my place. One day I mustered the courage to ask whether he'd like to move in. He said yes.

I was delighted. That cheesy 80's song was right. Heaven is a _Place_ on Earth.

I put on my sneakers, sunglasses high on my head, and make my way down the stairs, stepping two at a time.

I'm not in a hurry, but I want to be back before Simon wakes up.

I want to be the one to rouse the sleepyhead.

Every time when he wakes and recognizes that I'm already up and observing him, there is a fond little smile. Reassurance that he wants this. Wants me.

I'm high on Snow, had been addicted half my life, and I don't mean cocaine.

I walk the road to the bakery instead of driving the car. Waste of gas, and contrary to the popular belief I do enjoy some sunlight from time to time.

London levels, not California. Crowley, never again. Wellbelove can boil all she wants.

Once I'm there I ask for twelve sour cherry and a single blueberry scone. I do not dare to tell Simon I prefer the taste of that to cherries.

I'd be excommunicated on the spot.

Though in all fairness, the best scone is the one I'm kissing off his lips after he is done rampaging.

I eat my treat in a few bites on the way back. My fangs make an appearance whenever I start chewing, but it's bloody London. Nobody is paying any attention when crossing the streets. If anyone were to stop me, Halloween came early.

I hear him playing in the living room when I arrive at the apartment door.

He is awake then. That's a shame, but not to worry. There are countless other opportunities in _a life spent together._

I step inside and stand to watch from afar, quietly.

I bought Simon a gaming console for his birthday. He is very keen on a shooting game called "Overwatch", and is surprisingly good at it, actually. Even managed to achieve 'master' rank in competitive mode.

Sometimes he does voice chat when he is playing in a group with other people. Last week there was this bloke hitting up on him the whole time.

Snow, ever the oblivious fool, didn't notice a thing, of course. He never gets it when people talk to him out of horniness instead of friendliness.

I _happened_ to be in the room, not far from him. Once I got enough of the flirting git, I moved behind Simon and bellowed a "What's up, babe?" straight into the mic. And that was that.

He mains the heroine 'D.va'. The similarities between the fighting style of him and the mech piloting girl are undeniable.

First to rush head first into battle. All offense, no defense. When cornered or trying to save teammates: goes all boom.

He can't blow up anymore, fortunately. Not with his magic gone.

We don't know whether it'll ever come back.

He becomes 'play of the game' once the match is over. Simon says "Nerf this!" at the same time as his in-game character with the controller held up above his head animatedly.

_With the immeasurable amount of power he had before losing it all, these two words, used with his magic, would have annihilated half of the city._

What a dork.

He finally turns around after I've been resting here for five minutes, _overwatching_ him.

"Baz!" he shouts, then lunges forward.

I have the scones in a paper bag tucked behind my back. When Snow tries to grab it, I use my three inch height advantage to make him work for it.

He is standing on his tiptoes in an attempt to reach his desired breakfast.

"Baz! Give it to me, I'm starving!"

"Now, that is not how you ask for something properly, Snow. What is the magic word?"

I tell him while snaking an arm around his back, and squeezing his butt lightly.

He flushes red down to his neck.

"Uh… umm…please?"

"Good boy."

His blush intensifies and he swallows showily, the sugary goods seemingly forgotten.

Hmmm. Something to explore for later. In great detail.

"Here."

He comes out from his daze, whatever it was, and beams like a boy-sized star.

"Thanks!"

He hurries off towards the kitchen, doing some sort of ritualistic dancing all the while.

...

Time goes by relatively fast after that.

I did all of my assignments yesterday, so my mind is the least concerned with school.

I finally have some free time to spend in a long while. Which means reading in the room where Simon is located, next to his warm body.

We lie sprawled out on the bed in a rather peculiar pose. My back is to the headboard, head on a pillow while Simon's unsocked feet are in my lap. Even his bare feet are perfect, cute toes and all. His little toe is especially ticklish. I keep switching between which foot to knead. The book is in my other hand. An exquisite read about the magical properties of abandoned Victorian mansions.

The man himself is on his back with my laptop on a fit chest. He is watching the very same season of 'Doctor Who' we've already seen three times before, together. You could say that when he likes something he likes that _very_ passionately. I know that from experience.

He is wearing one of my nondescript T-shirts and knee-length trousers. The shirt is too big for him, but that does not bother either of us. I love to see him in my clothes. Sometimes he wears my old football jersey from my Great Lawn pitch days. It would have been splendid to have him cheering me on in those back at Watford were we together. An open declaration that _he is mine_ , and _I'm his_.

Despite the article being oversized, a tad bit of his boyish hips is still showing somehow. I fear that if I keep staring too long I'll be drooling all over the bed.

Both of us are so immersed in our own bubbles that it's late afternoon when I ask Simon for the time.

I can barely keep my hands to myself anymore. I mean the both of them. One is still petting his leg.

I put down my book on the bedside table. I can hear the credits to the season finale rolling on the laptop.

"Made sure that it was still the best season, Snow?"

"But it is!" he whines in an annoyed tone.

I'm tickling the sole of his feet to retaliate.

My laptop flies off him when he starts shuffling to get away from my attacking hands, trying to curl up in a ball. A golden ball of everything good in this world.

He is giggling without a worry, and tears begin forming in his blue eyes. Eyes blue as the ocean on a cloudless day.

"Stop it!" Snow is wheezing. "Baz, stop!"

I give up on the tickling to leave kisses instead. The T-shirt rolled up just enough that a sliver of freckled skin is freed.

I grab him by the waist on both sides and drag him down with a quick strike so I can mouth at the area. Simon whimpers in defeat and gives up struggling, like a captured prey animal.

It's a good thing I drank myself full of blood yesterday. I had a satisfying hunt in a forest not too far from London, draining a formidable buck. Enough for two days, at the least.

I was out until three in the morning. Simon waited for me to come back, willing himself not to fall asleep until I was draped behind his back. He always waits for me patiently when I'm off to get blood. The considerate fool says, that with all the dangers lurking outside, he couldn't sleep if he tried until I'm safely tucked next to him. He really is the most thoughtful person I know.

I start licking his skin while my hands are roaming his sides.

I look up to see his eyes closed, head thrown back on the pillow, his hands on either side, clutching the fabric. If I didn't know better, I'd think that he is trying to imitate the impromptu scenario of this morning.

I launch myself forward to kiss his pretty lips. He kisses me back while I'm playing with his silky curls.

"Simon… I cannot wait anymore. _I want you_."

The indication of what I'm saying makes him shiver deliciously.

"Baz…I have to shower first."

I move my weight off and pull him to my chest for a hug.

"Do you still want this? I mean I'm perfectly fine with a blowjo…."

Now I'm the one cut off with a short kiss.

"Stop overthinking with that big brain of yours. I do."

He juts his chin out. Snow does this every time he is determined to prove something.

"All right. I'll aestheticise the room while you are gone."

"What the heck does that even mean?" He asks incredulously with a frown, furrowing his brows.

I roll my eyes.

"I'll make the bed, put on some music and spell a little lighting for the mood."

His expression clears up.

"Oh, 'kay. I-I'll be back…in a bit."

Simon scurries off but stops at the door and turns around to give me a shy smile before going inside.

I feel unusually warm, as if the dragon we chased away together back at Watford made a _new home_ in my stomach and was trying out her fire breathing abilities, exhaling blazing butterflies with tiny fluttering wings.

I put the unwanted accessories off the bed. Only the softest blankets stay along with the silkiest pillows. Anything to make him feel the most comfortable.

'After Hours' by the Weeknd is set to be played on Spotify. I don't often listen to modern artists, but he is an honourable exception. Simon likes him, too.

The resident Starboy.

I spell the bedroom windows so that the dim light coming in is an alluring red colour.

The only thing left to do is wait.

**Simon**

I'm done with everything but kinda scared to leave the bathroom.

 _'There is nothing to be afraid of, Snow',_ says a voice in my head. It's Baz's, of course.

Shut up little Baz, you are not the one who is going to have sex with big Baz. Big in every sense of the word...

I feel myself turning crimson already. He is going to tease me to death.

I sigh then open the door.

I'm pinned to the wall before I could even say 'hi'. Not an unusual occurrence when Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch is your boyfriend.

Baz's mouth is on my neck, busy making hickeys. He makes an inhuman growl deep in his throat. My legs go unsteady, but he is there to keep me afloat.

"What took you so long?"

He tries to keep the uncertainty out of his voice, but I know it's there. After all this time, I know him better than anyone. I could graduate with a degree in Baz Pitch.

I try to formulate words but nothing comes out.

Baz snatches me up in haste and throws me on the bed. I can only yelp in return, and bounce on the mattress.

That would've probably hurt with my wings on, but I have the most amazing friend and boyfriend in the world who found an old spell to make them disappear.

He pounces like a panther and then we are kissing. There is a great hunger in it, and his tongue slips into my mouth. Our snogging gradually becomes less aggressive, more slow and sweet.

Baz moves back somewhat so I can have a proper view of him. Some of his obsidian hair hangs in his face.

He is lovely. And breathtakingly fit. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, making his toned forearms visible. And his hands… with those long, calloused fingers. I want them to do _things_ to me. So fucking much.

I can hear a familiar song playing on his phone. Smoky vocals accompanied by saxophone.

I dare to look up and lock my eyes with his.

_~In your eyes_

_I see there's something burning inside you_

_Oh, inside you~_

His grey eyes have a dangerous fire to them.

_This will end in flames._

And I am glad to burn.

**Baz**

Simon Snow never looked more beautiful before. The sight of him should be eternalized for the ages.

_Take one, it lasts longer!_

We are both rather conscious about appearing in pictures. (Yes, I _can_ be seen in photos, stop with the bloody superstitions already.) But I'm working on it _for him._ Sometimes when I'm occupied with school stuff, I perceive him taking shots with his phone from the corner of my eye. Snow and his adorable antics. His lock screen is me hunched over a book, sitting at my desk. Mine is him sleeping soundly without a care in the world.

That vision is _still_ therapeutic.

His bronze curls are spread on the bed sheets, legs up, arms by his side, blushing madly.

He got dressed into fresh clothes after showering, but to what end is beyond me. I'd tear heaven and hell apart for a glimpse of his skin. Mere pieces of clothing stand no chance.

Or maybe he wants me to undress him?

I'm more than happy to comply with the unsaid request.

I start by gripping his trousers by the waist band and dragging them down leisurely. Not all the way, just until they reach his knees, thighs out in the open, ready to be devoured. Those are the softest part of Simon, presumably where all those over-buttered scones go.

I plant kisses on both of his legs while my hand is exploring under his T-shirt by the stomach. I'm caressing the skin there like one would do with a newborn kitten.

He is radiating warmth. Precious heat I'm always in dire need of. And he gives it to me with all of his heart.

I'm grateful to whoever is spinning the threads of fate and did it so that this miracle could happen. Simon and me, together.

I surge up from my place to claim his mouth with a kiss, sweet and deep.

After a couple of minutes have passed we halt to breathe, and I put my nose on his.

"I love you so much, Simon."

He beams with a radiant smile, and puts his hand to my right cheek. It takes a great effort not to melt into a puddle. A gay vampire one.

I never would have thought that I can be this happy. That something even close to this is possible. I was certain that only death and destruction are in store for me, and I will go up in a smoke.

Unneeded. Unwanted. Unloved.

_"I love you, Baz. Like this much." Snow stretches his hands out on both sides while grinning until they can't go further for added theatrics._

But Simon Snow bestowed the kiss of life upon me.

He chose me. And I must _carry on._ For him and for myself.

For a life spent kissing his lips.

I dip back down to his gorgeous face to emplace kisses everywhere in my reach.

"I love this." one on his cute nose. "And this." a peck over his left eye. "And this, and this, and this." three little kisses on his right cheek, targeting those inviting moles.

I make sure to pay my respects to all of his freckles, too. Or at least try. There are so many dots to connect. A map of sprinkled stardust.

I get to his ear when I decide to whisper something risky into the lobe. Just to test something out, and see if I'm right.

I usually am.

As past-Snow would have said, I've been plotting. Only it's another kind of demise this time, one caused by sweet nothings.

"Simon, you are heart-stoppingly beautiful."

I declare matter of factly.

It is as if time stopped in its tracks, too. His breath hitches and the hand he had by my nape loosens. I think he is approaching peak blush levels right now. The way he does it must be terribly exhausting.

"I-I… not...B-baz." he stammers.

I was right. I've been scarce with compliments up until now, the vocalized ones, I mean.

But now...

_I got you now, Simon Snow._

I smirk, then proceed to deal the final blow.

"Yes, _you are_. Greek gods fall short compared to your exceptional beauty. Apollo himself would crush his golden chariot, and let the Sun fall down the sky to have a look at you. Thus dooming us all, but believe me when I say: it would be worth it."

Simon is utterly mortified for a few seconds. However, he comes out of his stupor, pushes me back slightly, and extends his hand backwards.

He grabs his sleeping pillow from behind his back, the one depicting a cottage on green hills with baby goats grazing around it, brings it to his front, then buries his face in it until my view of him is completely blocked out.

"Awww, what, Simon." I tease. "It's just a _little_ praise kink. Nothing to be embarrassed about."

He is holding on for dear life, grasping that plush item.

I move my face right above the pillow, breathing in his scent. Freshly baked cinnamon buns and bergamot mixed, with a hint of cedar trees. Smells like something I could never order enough of.

"Now, now. Be a good boy and let the _Big Bad Wolf_ in."

He whines softly, then lowers the pillow to nose level so his blue eyes are staring into mine warily.

I curl some of his hair behind his pinkened left ear with a finger.

"All right, love?"

**Simon**

_It's now or never, Simon. Now or never._

**Baz**

He mumbles something into his pillow.

" _Iwantyoutodominatemebaz."_

Something with _'I want_ ', _'dom'_ and _'Baz'_.

I have to be sure I heard that correctly before jumping to conclusions. It can't be...

"What?" I ask again.

No answer.

I cautiously take the pillow away. He lets go of it.

"Speak up, Snow. Use your words."

Simon swallows with that sinful neck of his, then mutters so quietly I couldn't hear it without being a vampire.

"I-I…want you to... dominate me."

I think my eyes are bulging out of my skull.

Did Simon Snow just ask me to dominate him in bed? As in doing BDSM?

It dawns on me how it could make sense, given how he acts in heated situations these days, and how pliant he becomes under my hands.

What if it's a mistake though.

"Simon, you do realize that being a top or a bottom or taking a dominant/submissive role during sex are two different sets of terms, right?" I try to keep my voice even, with more or less luck.

He seems to ponder about my question for a moment before answering.

"Y-yes. I want both. If… that is alright with you." The moron says, as if it wasn't one of my dreams come true. 16-year-old Baz would have died of cardiac arrest on the spot hearing this, with Simon Snow down on his knees as a last thought.

 _Snow kneeling before me with his bubbly bum held up high in the air, waiting for my hardening length to slide into his mouth, then holding it there on the tongue, while my hands wander down to spread his cheeks, hitting the jackpot: that tight, enticing hole I've been salivating over in my wet dreams._ Fuck...

Dreams are coming true by the dozen nowadays.

I don't have to be content just imagining it anymore if I can actually do that with him. And he gives the control to me _willingly_ , enjoying whatever I want to give.

If somehow I wasn't rock-hard in my pants, I'm now. I want to _demolish_ him. Make him fall apart so that the only thing he remembers is my name.

This will be our first time doing this though. I can't let my more primal urges take command, and do something to hurt him.

I promised to myself never to do that again.

But given the recent news, what if he wants to be hurt as well, in _that_ kind of way...

I've sunk so deep into my thoughts that I forgot to answer him.

"Baz, if you don't want that… just tell me, s'fine." he sounds sad. Rejected.

I quickly claim his lips to reassure him that I _want_ this. I want whatever he gives to me. And if he prefers me giving and him taking, I'm delighted to do so.

 _Anything_ he needs.

I don't stop with my pursuit on his mouth until I feel him relax beneath me.

"You sure about this, love?"

Simon nods with conviction.

"Yes. Just... be gentle, please… at least at first."

He says that later part in a significantly quieter voice.

Merlin and Morgana, _I'm living a charmed life._

"Don't worry, Simon. I'll take care of you."

He looks positively smitten, heart eyes and all.

They say blue eyes are cold and unwelcoming. But his crystal spheres are so warm, like the rest of him. I see _home_ in them.

A bright future.

I trail kisses down his chin, spending a few minutes by his neck (as always), marking him as mine. We've been snogging a lot lately, so I learned to become cautious with my fangs.

I can feel his steady pulse, that tantalizing blood rushing through his veins.

_The inner vampire gets pushed to deeper parts of my mind, restricted._

I put my hands to his waist and drag his T-shirt up to reveal his chest, full of points of interest for my taste.

My hands roam freely on his smooth skin within their capacity. I stop at his right nipple and twist the nub lightly, making him moan beautifully.

I smirk like the Devil. Simon is sensitive in the best possible places.

There is a fine line of auburn hair drawn under his navel, leading to the _treasure_ in his confining underwear. His bulge is very apparent.

My current mission is to unbound his thick cock.

I continue my determined voyage down his body, kissing and licking and touching with great fervour.

I bite down on his pants with my teeth, and our eyes connect. Grey to blue, blue to grey.

Snow gulps while keeping up the contact.

Electricity is palpable in the air.

I haul the obstructing boxers down with a swift motion, then grab his sex and lick a long stripe from the base up to the pink crown. Precum is leaking heavily from _my_ prized possession, smearing my tongue with sweet flavours.

But I taste it _only once._

Simon whines adorably.

"Bazz… what the hell, do something…"

This won't do.

"I'm afraid you are not the one holding the reins here, Snow. So if you want something you either wait until I give it to you or ask for it _nicely_." I enlighten him to set things straight.

His neglected prick takes interest in my harsh words and hardens even more. It's standing tall against his stomach.

"Baz… _please_."

"That's better. What do you want, pretty boy?"

I enquire knowing very well _what_ he wants.

"Please touch me, please… I need you so much, please Baz…" he sounds close to sobbing.

"So needy. Very well." 

I flip him around in the blink of an eye so now his head is between my legs, then I pull my trousers down to my thighs.

My clothed dick is on the middle of his flushed face, above his nose.

I want to fuck his throat. Might as well do so.

When I thought Simon Snow couldn't be more perfect, it turned out his gag reflex is basically non-existent. I like sucking dick just as much as your next gay guy, but he is superior compared to me. Puts that mouth of his to a _good use._

I take my erection out and slap his forehead gently with it.

He looks abashed, but I'm sure he enjoyed it, judging by that mewling noise he just made.

I do it again, then advance forward until I'm in level with his own proud member, positioning my cock so it can slide in his mouth all the while.

"Suck." I command, then without further ado thrust my length into the wet heat.

I do not stop until I hit the very back of his throat.

I rest heavy on his tongue for a moment, then take myself out until only the tip is in before slamming it back inside. I set a ruthless pace, my balls making _that_ specific sound whenever they smack his face.

His hands are encircling my thighs from behind. Simon knows how to sign if there is a problem and all of it is over in an instant.

But he _never_ had to use it.

I start lapping his cock with my tongue, wetting it with saliva using languid licks. My hands are massaging Snow's balls, occasionally squeezing the soft _playthings_.

The added vibrations from his moaning encourage me to reward him, so I swallow as much of his thickness as I can in one go, around three-quarters.

It's a bit of a challenge when you have sharp, protruding canines, but with some practice come amazing skills.

We continue sucking each other until I feel Simon's erection building up like a lascivious geyser, close to eruption.

I abruptly leave his prick hanging with a loud 'pop'. My hands retreat as well, after a last firm press on his bollocks.

Snow's sob in relation to my sudden withdrawal gets muffled by my dick still filling his mouth.

It's rather hard to pull out from that snug hollow, but the main course of the day is yet to be _eaten_.

I reposition us so that he lies before me, completely debauched, some drool by his chin. Simon is not sloppy, so maybe I went a little overboard. I shift forward so my hands are by either side of his wild curls, trapping him beneath me. Just the way I like it.

"B-baz, why… I was so close…" he croaks with tears in his eyes.

_Not yet, sweetheart. I'm far from finished with you._

"Oh, Simon…don't you get it? The only person who has a saying in whether you come or not is _me._ And that'll only happen when you start acting like a good boy and less like a spoiled brat. I don't think you are there yet." I let him know smugly.

"I-I'll-...I want to be a _good boy… for you."_ he says sniffing, giving me those irresistible pleading eyes.

I smile and give thanks to no one in particular.

"I know, baby, I know."

I dive down for a kiss on the lips while circling my arms around his back and embracing him tight.

The shuffled album still playing in the background is approaching the end.

An upbeat track reminiscent of bygone days comes next.

_~I said, ooh, I'm blinded by the lights_

_No, I can't sleep until I feel your touch_

_I said, ooh, I'm drowning in the night_

_Oh, when I'm like this, you're the one I trust~_

My dazzling solar flare of a boyfriend is running especially hot right now, setting my dead heart on fire, liquid flame spreading through dark veins. I'm being incinerated from the inside out. A split second blaze, and my ashes would cover his naked body, wings ready to take him above, untethered from mortal life.

A phoenix reborn.

He softens under my touch and kisses me back, but I'm not entirely convinced.

I _have to_ make sure he still _wants this_.

"Simon, do you want to go further? If not we can stop here and now, I would understand."

I ask him while patting his damp cheeks.

He bobs his head almost immediately.

" _Yes_ …yes, I want to _feel_ you, Baz." the first 'yes' is barely audible so he repeats it with more resolution.

"All right, my love."

One last kiss and I release his body.

I kneel in front of him, his bare feet hitting my knees. His lower half is quite supple, so I just bend him until his legs are nearly above his shoulders. Simon bleats like a helpless lamb.

I chuckle wolfishly, watching him squirm a little in his new position, but he can't really move because of the set grip I have on his squishy thighs.

His pants are barely on, blocking the view of my ultimate target. The _last_ hindrance standing in my way.

I yank his boxers down along with his trousers so he is starkers now.

Bare as the moment he came to this world, Simon is summer impersonated, everlasting youth contained in a virile vessel. It only makes sense he was born on the solstice, brightest day of the year, brightest spot of my life.

"My gorgeous sunshine." I coo. "I have waited a _long_ time for this."

He swallows and keeps an attentive gaze on me, awaiting what's next to come obediently.

His hole is the loveliest pink colour.

I know I've been hyper fixating on it, but it really looks _that_ good. So inviting, with the promise of keenly anticipated euphoria.

I put my face to his entrance and prepare to blow some air on the dented surface.

_Maybe I'll huff and puff at the doors first before getting in._

**Simon**

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

_Maybe we are not short of only one thing..._

**Baz**

Snow's gap flutters from the impact and he mewls.

"W-what are you doing, Baz…?"

I give him a menacing grin.

"Just checking whether the fruit is _ripe_." I say, then lean in for a tentative lick.

Fucking damn it is, sweet juicy righteousness. I have to control my appetite, the need to just devour ravenously.

No wonder _those fools_ gave into temptation in Eden.

I think his delicious ass is going to make up for the lack of his blood just fine. The blood remains unobtainable, he stays alive. Better of the two alternatives.

He makes a sound of pleasure deep in his throat, probably the closest thing to purring.

"That good, huh?" I question after a quick laugh.

Simon hums, then opens his eyes, pristine twin seas glancing at me pleasingly.

"Yes…please, Baz...c-could you do that again...please?"

I wait for a couple of seconds, pretending that I'm deciding about his fate, just to tease him a little more. It's been predetermined long ago.

"Only because you asked so nicely. You _earned it,_ being so perfect for me _."_

After hearing my words, new drops of precum squirt forth from his lengthy member, a wispy string connecting it with his abdomen. There is some pooled on his glowing skin.

He is still tilted, my hands gripping him in half. I remove my right hand, (the left is enough to keep him in place), and dip two of my fingers in the tiny transparent lake on his stomach, coating them with the anticipatory fluid. I bring my glazed middle and index finger to his lips.

"Open up, Simon." I order him.

Snow does as told while batting his dark eyelashes, pupils dilated, blackness absorbing the blue. The epitome of lust.

Crowley, he is licking his own pre off my fingers like his life depended on it. So servile.

I could do so many things to him...

But not tonight. There is a set _goal_ already.

I move my face back to his rim, my tongue being honed to breach his walls. I spit, directing it so that some dribbles into the opening.

I'm lapping Simon's hole up, him, having polished the spot on his middle with the help of my enthusiastic hand, moaning in enjoyment.

Once I'm done testing the waters, I begin to eat him out in earnest. His whole body quivers when I spear the tip of my tongue in and out in rapid waves.

I put my free hand to his aching cock and give it a few strokes before grasping the shaft rather hard for half a second.

Snow yelps and searches for my eyes with a confused expression.

"No coming, _understood_?"

He gulps while a single bead of perspiration advances down his slender throat.

"I w-won't come, Baz…only when you tell me I'm _allowed_."

I smirk proudly. I'm pretty amazed by his commitment to please me.

"That's right, you are learning so fast. You are a _very_ good boy, Simon."

His toes curl from the given compliment.

Wicked.

I kiss both of his flawless buns, then continue rimming and jerking him off at the same time.

I'm so concentrated on satisfying Snow with my lavishing treatment that I totally forgot about my own throbbing erection between my legs. I look down and see that I was absentmindedly rutting against the sheets, leaving a patch of wetness in my wake.

At this point, my cock is begging me to be put in somewhere. _Someone_.

My hand gets withdrawn from his prick to his moistened entrance, and I spread his cheeks, dragging a sole finger by the rim.

He exhales a breathy whine.

When you start to _fiddle_ Simon Snow in all the right places, he makes better music than a Stradivarius. Becomes the finest instrument under my deft hands.

I know there is a string of nerves deeper in him that being strummed would make him sing in ecstasy.

I've fingered him before, some experimenting minutes, but haven't managed to find that point of bliss _yet._

Challenge accepted.

I decide to end this domineering act for now, though. It's too early to delve further into, and we have to talk through lots of things first, outside of the haze of sex.

Simon deserves to be made love with tenderly for the first time.

Each and every time if he would want that.

I set him down on _our bed_ in a delicate manner, then pull him to myself, and I kiss him. And I kiss him. And I kiss him again. And he kisses me back.

"I love you, Simon. I love you _more_ than any man ever loved another."

I let the emotion be heard in my voice, a dam breached, the reservoir of my devotion for him flooding. Let it overflow and wash all of his doubts away.

He smiles and kisses me on the nose, his hands around my neck.

"I love you, Baz."

I beam back at him, the Moon uncovered by clouds.

Where were we?

Forgive me, I'm slightly dazed by the aura of this divine creature I'm currently snogging with.

Oh, right.

"Simon...darling, I'm going to get the lube. Do you want me to use a condom?"

He shakes his head, his bronze curls bouncing.

"No, Baz. I'm yours, _only yours_."

I sigh, like a lovesick fool probably. I say sick, but I can't get ill. _Diseases of Venus_ most likely included _._ (Not that I ever did it with anyone else in the first place.)

"And I'm yours, always and forever."

A last peck on his rosy lips, and I stride to the bedside table to get the sour cherry flavoured liquid, (courtesy of Simon), discarding the remaining clothes I have on as well.

I dash back to him with swift steps, resting my knees between his legs. I was away for a moment and he seized his pillow with the goats, clasping it in his cinnamon dusted hands securely.

I overlay two of my right hand's digits with the substance.

"Ready, love?"

Snow pushes his chin out and inclines his head in agreement, cheeks blooming in passion.

He looks like a very healthy apple _I'd gladly eat._

" _Yes_." he breathes.

"All right." I breathe back.

I bring my lubed up fingers to Simon's hole and pry him open, the tip of my index finger slowly inching forward.

He moans loudly and trembles from the probing intrusion into his mellow heat.

I start working my forefinger in and out, looking for his _sweetest_ spot with exploratory stretches, smooching his thighs and stomach all the while.

His cushion is clenched in his fists.

I allocate my left hand to his right, with the palm down.

He flips his own.

A squeeze.

My heart beats so hard that it wants to be pushed out through the point of contact.

His touch is still as magical as _the very first_ , even without having any. A thought echoes through my head:

_'You can't take magic away from someone who is Magic himself.'_

I'm bound to Simon Snow through an invisible thread, one that flows from _his soul_ to the hollow where _my soul_ used to be. Imperishable.

Snow cries out all of a sudden, and his face scrunches up in rapture.

 _Oh_. There it is.

Our eyes meet.

"W-was...that my…?" he splutters, this endearing idiot.

I finish that sentence for him, trying not to giggle with difficulty. 

"Your prostate? Yeah, I think that was it." I answer then make myself sound more smug. _"Felt good?_ "

Simon nods promptly, latching onto my hand even tighter.

I resume my prodding at his sensitive walls, eventually adding my middle finger, then another digit shortly after.

Once I pinpoint the exact location of his prostate, he is _singing_ , a carnal chant coming deep from his throat. I compensate with a shower of praises.

_"You are so beautiful. So gorgeous. Par excellence."_

A bit has passed, and I think Simon is ready. I've scissored him thoroughly, and I want us to _see the stars_ at the same time.

He might be close to coming, judging by how he keeps convulsing in gratification. The idea of him having an orgasm just from my hands makes my so far ignored cock twitch up.

My rod is so fucking stiff that it's weighing me down. I'll get blue balls if I don't get to use it.

He whines needily when my fingers retire from his stretched hole, and I quickly progress up his ethereal body with my lips until I reach his mouth.

Simon puts his hand to my nape and calms into the kiss, our tongues battling. I'm still holding his other and don't plan to let go.

"I'm here, love." I say while nosing at his chin.

"Baz...I want to feel you _inside me."_

I dock my dick on his own hardness. He glances down to the sight and swallows aloud.

I snicker, not unkindly.

"You sure? I could always use a spell to stretch you _further_."

I know very well that he won't let me, but I want to see his reaction. I'm evil like that. There you go, pre-eight-year Snow.

He could only flush redder in theory. His cosmic embarrassment must be affecting the parallel universe Simon Snows.

_Crowley, more than one Simon…_

I'm jolted by his voice, pitches higher than usual.

"No, Baz, don't even think about it!" he squeaks.

Too late.

After the momentary shock, his gaze turns more gentle.

 _"I'm ready."_ he states with that bravery I fell in love with.

"Okay. Do you want to turn around? It's…well, it's easier like that."

"I _want_ to see you. Besides, _when_ was anything easy for me?"

"I want _everything_ to be easy for you."

Simon sighs.

"I know, Baz. Just let me have this, _please._

I give in. I always do when it comes to him.

"As you wish."

The grip he has on my hand and shoulder stays resolute, unwavering. I guess he doesn't want to let go of them.

I smear my sex in a generous amount of lube with my unoccupied hand, then guide it to his well-prepared heat.

Here we go.

The head of my prick goes in and I'm utterly overwhelmed by the incredible warmth surrounding it. Would be well awkward if I came right away, but I can't be blamed.

Simon shivers to his very core from the foretold invasion on his nerves, whimpering.

I will myself into a standstill, even if it's an arduous task not to rush my entire length inside. _I can't hurt him._ His well-being is _always_ the priority.

"Simon, are you okay?"

"Y-yes, just give me a minute, please." he whispers, a tad bit strained.

I await patiently until he signs with his head that I can go further.

I move inward, inch by inch, with deliberate cautiousness. I expect Simon telling me to pause, but he doesn't.

I'm staring into his eyes the whole time.

The blue has faded, only black remains, abyssal trenches of the deepest devotedness.

I bottom out.

_I'm in, every wall blown away._

Nothing ever could describe this feeling.

I have ascended to the _Empyrean_ , the highest, warmest, most glorious form of heaven, an angel spreading his wings so wide that he deems someone as fallen as me worthy of entry. 

I never want to leave.

Simon's current expression conveys more pleasure than pain, lips parted, eyes closed, trying to get used to the new sensation of fullness. His grasp on me got even stronger.

I kiss his searing lips, and secure him in an inseparable embrace, binding us together.

_We have never been more connected to each other._

After a few moments of amorous snogging we come up for some air, panting and breathing in.

"You _can_ move, Baz."

I do as told, carefully pulling out and going back _inside Simon_. I slide my cock against his velvety walls in an attempt to drag it against his prostate.

Based on the sounds he is making and the way he just constrained my dick even tighter, I think I did.

I want him to enjoy this just as much as I do. He is in the most vulnerable state possible and trusts me with all of his righteous heart.

A heart that is so alive it beats for the both of us, evening out mine's missing throbs.

I quicken up my thrusts and lock us back together into a kiss, _swallowing his voice._

I've anticipated this _blessing_ so much that I know I will not last much longer. Once I feel my _peak_ building up, I begin to wank him off with unhesitating strokes.

_There is just one more thing._

"Simon…can I come inside you?"

"Y-yes... _please_." he says wrecked out his mind.

Fucking hell.

I press us together in a soul-entwining hug and kiss him one last time before exploding.

We go supernova at the same time, two galaxies colliding, opening a pathway to _enlightenment_.

There are no secrets revealed, only clarification;

**I will never love anyone else other than Simon Snow.**

We levitate back to Earth after a few blissful seconds.

Simon is holding me in a death grip, and I feel something wet hitting my face.

He is crying. I start tearing up as well.

"Baz...please, don't let go... _please…_ " he sounds so sad my stomach drops to the floor.

Simon is sobbing now.

"I won't let go, Simon, _I promise_."

I slip out of him, but I don't let go. I will hold him as long as he needs to be held.

I tell him I love him every ten seconds or so.

He calms down somewhat after a while.

My come is dripping out of him down onto my thighs. We should go clean up.

"Simon, can we go to the bathroom?" I ask him softly.

"Yes...just hold me, please."

"All right." _I won't let go._

I move us off the bed in a way that he doesn't have to let go of me, pressed close to my chest, legs around my waist, his head by my neck.

He is hanging onto me like a koala bear.

I carry him so that my hands are by his bum, making the position comfortable for him.

He just has to hold onto me. _I won't let go._

I take us to the bathroom, the other, the one with the clawfoot tub and step inside.

It was a gift from Fiona. I said we don't need it, but she was relentless. I think she just wanted to get rid of it.

Simon loves bathing though. He told me it's a luxury he could never partake in.

I sit into the tub with Simon in my lap. _I won't let go._

I wash him and myself, hair included. He looks better now, but sleepy.

We brush our teeth, too. It's quite a task in the position he is in, but we manage somehow.

I walk us back to the bedroom and sit and shuffle on the covers with him in my lap until we can lie down horizontally. _I won't let go._

I cover us in blankets and pull him closer, as close as possible.

He whispers into my neck tiredly. It tickles.

"Baz… will you stay in bed with me tomorrow, please?"

I nuzzle my nose into the fragrant wreath of gold curls crowning him.

"I would lie under the covers with you _forever_ if I could, Simon."

He squeezes my chest until we are literally the same person.

"I love you, Baz."

"I love you, Simon." _And I won't let go._

...

He mumbles these last words in a sleepy tone into my chest before drifting off to the land of dreams.

"Baz...can you spell a watermelon into bed for breakfast?"

Idiot. _My idiot._

**Simon**

I'm ashamed of what I want the most. It's pitiful, really.

I just _want to be wanted_. Desperately.

Not a colossal fuckup. An unworthy boyfriend.

A failed prophecy project.

Baz looks at me like I'm the only person in the room, in the world, in the whole universe.

He is the centre of mine.

I want to be his too, so much.

_I think I am._

Baz doesn't let go of me the whole night and _the stars are back in the sky_ in my dreams.

**Baz**

At the end of the day _, **I am dead** _certain of two things:

That Simon **_Snow is alive_** _._

And **I'm hopefully in love with him.**

**Author's Note:**

> to fiddle=to play the violin ;) 😳
> 
> Simon plays Overwatch and is good at it because I was obsessed with that dorky game for y e a r s.  
> Baz knows things because he is invested in his boyfriend's hobbies. 😌
> 
> I haven't listened to 'After hours' yet, but I love the singles from it sooo much. Songs from the Weeknd in this are: "In Your Eyes" and "Blinding Lights". Also the series name come from the song "Earned it", I just changed the 'girl' in the lyrics to 'boy'. (It's a song about a BDSM relationship so kinda fitting)  
> So if you want a theme going with these fics, I recommend listening to Abel's music. ✨
> 
> I hope you liked it! If you did please leave a comment, I appreciate them a lot! :)  
> ❤


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